RAGNAR
I spend the entire evening on the phone with my parents.
They are ecstatic about the news and keep pushing for more, urging me to find an occasion to talk to Summer and try to get information about Moon’s whereabouts. They seem to believe that after spending so many months here, Summer must know what happened, but I’m more skeptical.
One thing I do start doing is preparing them. They need to begin wrapping up their business, just in case. I might have to make a move and get Summer out of the fortress. Seeing what happened to Sun only adds to my concerns about how Summer is being treated.
After I hang up, I call Hunter.
He picks up on the tenth ring.
At first, it feels like he doesn’t even recognize my voice. Then he barely speaks at all, just one-word answers, especially when I ask how he was doing.
Eventually, I tell him what I need. I know that before the military, he briefly worked with the witness protection program, so I ask what I can do to protect my parents if I take Summer from The Sun.
Hunter confirms it’s almost certain that Anzo will come after them for revenge. During his time working there, he saw how the mafia operates. They hit family members in retaliation. The only option would be to flee the country and change their identities, or…
… take Anzo out.
I toy with that thought for a moment, and yeah, there’s a certain thrill in it.
But I know it’s not that simple. The mafia is never just one man. It’s a whole structure. Kill Anzo, and Rocco becomes capo. Kill Rocco, and it’s Ennio, or Vincenzo, or Luca. Can I really expect them to show mercy after I wipe out their relatives?
Someone kills a member of their family? The mafia sees this kind of shit as a matter of honor. They won’t stop until they kill yours. It’s all about image, power, or the pretense of it.
I share these thoughts with Hunter. He listens in silence. But when I stop talking, he surprises me by saying he’ll check in with some of his old contacts, see what it might take to get my parents into the program, even if technically there’s no criminal case involving Anzo.
So I need to be patient.
Since morning, me and a few other catering staff have been cleaning up the garden.
I’m moving flower pots, watering the lawn, which is completely trampled.
Some of the plants in the flowerbeds are damaged, broken, probably because drunk guests sat on them.
They'll need to be replaced, but oh well. I'm just working here.
Around noon, the rest of the crew starts packing up. All the tables are gone, the sofas too. I'm the only one left in the garden.
At about 1 pm, I spot Sun’s slim silhouette stepping out of the house. I see him walking toward the gazebo. My jaw tightens.
After what I saw at the banquet, I’m even more sure I shouldn’t get involved in any way, not even for another quick fuck. Those human leeches, Anzo and Rocco are so brutal to Sun… If they get to know about us, he will be torn to pieces.
Bonzo had to step out of the guard booth for a bit yesterday because one of the guests got wasted, needed help getting packed into a car and sent home. That gave me a chance to watch the whole scene more closely, and catch the moment when Anzo pulled Sun aside and slapped him.
I also saw Rocco grabbing him. That’s when I turned on the sprinklers, just to distract him for a second, give Sun a chance to get away.
But what else can I do for him? Morph into an imago and kill them all? Risk losing the progress I have made here and abandon my mission to find Moon? I already stretched my luck before, with Vito!
As I watch Sun heading into the garden gazebo, the struggle begins again, even intensifies, the conflicting urges grow.
Adrenaline spike in my veins. Yes, none of the cameras are positioned to see who goes in or out of the gazebo, but there is a camera on the main entrance to the mansion.
So whoever reviews the footage will see that Sun walked out and that I’m in the garden.
That alone might be enough to spark some suspicion.
And who seems to be in control of the cameras?
Always-watching Mauro! He was able to disconnect them for an hour yesterday. I wonder how he explained it to Anzo and Rocco?
I wrestle with myself for thirty minutes before my legs just start moving on their own.
I pretend to water the flowerbeds, in case somebody watching me from the guard booth window.
I keep slowly making my way deeper into the garden, trying to make it look casual.
Only once I’m behind the bushes that block the booth’s line of sight do I stop watering and head toward the gazebo.
Sun is sitting on the bench inside. His posture’s strange and stiff, his head bowed, and tears are dripping from his eyes.
I curse under my breath. Again? Like I said, I never know what to do in situations like this. I’ve never been good at comforting people. When Moon came to me with a problem, I listened, but rarely knew what to say. I always wished I were better at it.
But my mind always goes blank when I see someone cry. Is it because I’m a purple alpha? Maybe I really am more primitive than regular people. Emotional nuance just slips right past me.
I stop in the doorway and stay quiet, just looking at him. He lifts his beautiful eyes to mine.
I don’t say anything, he speaks first.
"Was it you who turned on the sprinkler yesterday?"
I hesitate. Then I nod slowly.
"Thank you," he says simply.
I don’t know what to add. I can't offer to help him. Whatever plan I try to create that includes saving Sun, it immediately implodes. Too many variables.
Maybe I’m still thinking like a programmed soldier, stuck in tunnel vision. Overwhelmed by too many variables: how many members of his family I’d have to protect, how many of Ferro’s I’d have to kill. Even the feds avoid going after the mafia head-on.
For now, my soldier’s logic keeps winning over my heart. The real question is… for how long?
Sun stands up slowly and walks toward me, his big eyes locked on my face. I catch the alluring scent of his orange shower wash. He moves closer, one step, then another, then a half step, until… finally his head rests against my shoulder!
Just his head.
Wow, how strange. It makes something in me… thaw. But I have no idea what it is.
So, we just stand there. Him with his head hanging on my shoulder, and me not sure if I should even breathe deeper.
"I’m going to die here," he whispers, exhaling slowly. "I know it already. There’s no hope of escape. Please… do what you did yesterday. Just for a moment, let me forget…"
I lift my hands, wanting to hug him, but his whole body flinches. He jolts back suddenly.
"No," he gasps, and new tears start pouring down his face. "Anything but that. You can’t touch my back…!"
"Why not?"
He swallows and wipes his face. Then he turns around, grabs the hem of his shirt, and slowly pulls it over his head.
His back, beautiful, slim, perfectly muscled, a divine balance of grace and strength, is covered in thin red welts. Swollen edges. They’re everywhere. Some bruised, already turning blue.
"Fuck," I mutter, rage at that bastard building deep inside me. Even though I have a monstrous side to me, I still see myself as a decent human being, and what was done to him is… just horrible.
Before I can even think it through, I blurt out, "That son of a bitch… I can’t promise I’ll save you, Sun. But if I see any way out for you, no matter how small, I swear I’ll tell you."
He turns to face me again. He’s standing right in front of me, his chest and torso bare. My gaze drifts down his body, well sculpted biceps, defined pecs, and a beautifully toned stomach. His nipples are a dark pink, drawn tight.
"No, I… I don’t expect you to help me. We both know what the mafia is and how hard it is to escape its grip.
They’ve got the mayor in their pocket, and the police too.
One person can’t do anything against them, not unless someone more powerful than Anzo gets involved.
But who would that even be? Who’s got the kind of money it would take to pull support away from him and make the police finally go after the Ferros? "
I watch him for a moment. Yeah. Sun has come to the same conclusion I have.
It’s kind of obvious when you think about it.
The mafia’s reputation as one of the most dangerous enemies around is well-earned.
They’re ruthless, cruel, and relentless, with intimidation down to a science.
Only the lucky ones manage to escape them.
Sun presses his face back to my neck. His soft lips graze my gland.
"I need something to hold on to," he whispers, "something to get me through this, to keep me from breaking apart. Can you give me that?"
"Yes," I say, short and firm. The decision isn’t made by the logical part of my brain, but again it’s made by the other head between my legs.
My hands slide slowly down his sides and over his perfect ass.
I ease my fingers under his waistband and find his entrance.
Sun lets out a soft sigh. His body is warm, trembling a little, and I gently stroke the edge of his hole.
He makes these tiny, high-pitched sounds, little whimpers of pleasure.
I lower my mouth to his neck, brushing over his gland, and he gasps quietly.
It’s untouched, no one’s ever marked him there.
Even just sliding my lips over his skin, nibbling, sucking lightly, it gives me way too much satisfaction, and the need to do even more, to extend my fangs and…
but it’s absurd, of course. Sun clutches the back of my shirt, pulling me closer.
I can feel him, hard and hungry, grinding against my thigh.
Desire is building way too fast, oddly fast. And I should be feeling sympathy for this guy, after all, his back is wrecked! That should’ve cooled me down. But my dick isn’t interested in compassion. It wants him the way it had him yesterday, hard and fast.